Flyboy Chronicles Part 1: The Pit
Formal staff meetings at the Pit had
always been the opposite, or rather, informal. It was merely a group of good
friends who met in a room and discussed recent news. You see the ‘Pit’, as its
residents call it, is actually The Rancor Pit, an independent commerce
and repair station situated on, or more accurately in,
an asteroid on the outskirts of the Hoth asteroid field. The station was owned
by a rather unorthodox Imperial Officer named Flyboy and it was in his office that
these meetings usually took place. Next in command was the cyborg and Fly’s
best friend Darkon. The last of the station’s official staff in the meeting was
the Chief of Security, Utmog. He is a Gamorrean,
meaning that he is a green pig-like creature that stands on two legs and is
inherently stupid. Though he is smart for his species, that
makes him just above a rock on the intelligence scale.
Even though they
are not officially members of the chain of command, the other biological
creatures in the office were both friends of the others and important to the
economy of the station itself. The beautiful
The captain was
situated behind his desk with his feet propped up and his chair back. Darkon
likewise had his feet on top of a table, but he was on the couch against the
sidewall. With his bulk, Utmog sat very uncomfortably and precariously on a
wood chair. Tannash, always his stiff and uncomfortable self, leaned against a
wall with his head cocked to one side. Taking the last remaining piece of
comfortable furniture in the room,
Flyboy spoke up,
“So, what did we decide to do with the extra profits again?”
Darkon answered,
“We were going to bolster the station’s defense squadrons…”
“I thought we were
going to add extra loading bays,”
“Every single time
I…”
“You
what?”
“Okay, okay, remind
me not to ask questions again, UGH!” the captain groaned. His last grunt got a
chorus of chuckles out of the group.
A mechanical voice
interrupted the laughter, “But, sir, as administrator of this facility, I
believe it is your duty to make inquires of your staff to the nature of the
station.” Everybody stopped their chuckles and just stared at the speaker.
“XL,” his owner
said after a few seconds of silence, “it was a joke. It’s okay.” Even though
metal couldn’t display emotions, B13-XL’s blue body seemed to radiate an air of
embarrassment.
“I apologize sir; I did not realize that…”
The other held up a
restraining hand, “Its okay, really.” He cut off before he could finish with
‘just shut up already’.
A buzzing sounded
in the silence following that last sentence. The occupants of the room looked
over to where Darkon was doubled over with his hands pushing into the sides of
his face. After a few moments, the buzzing subsided and he sat up again.
He noticed theirs
faces, “Don’t worry, just some feedback.”
“Does that happen
often?” his friend asked.
“Yeah, I’m going to
have to go get an upgrade.”
“Is the Doc still
around these days?”
“Nah, I heard he’s
been caught by local police.”
“Anyone else you
know who can?”
“So, where did
you get that thing anyway?” Both men stopped their conversation and stared at
her.
“What?” they both
said.
“I’m just curious.
I just wanted to know where you got that cybernetic brain of yours.”
“I thought you
knew,” Flyboy said. The other shrugged.
“Well, if you
really want to know,” Darkon started, “it happened about five years ago…”
The stares drifted lazily across the black of space, shifting from left to right, up and down. They were beautiful in their own way, like bright jewels on black velvet. A large rock blocked the view, and the pilot’s musings were instantly shattered. The background roar of the engines swam into focus and the small cockpit’s interior lights and panels now engaged his view.
He suddenly realized that someone was
talking to him and let his ears focus on the com. “…st to lead, can you hear
me?” He replied. The static filled voice sprang to life again, “Lead, Ghost
Four, are we going to fly out here all day or land”
Without replying, the pilot flicked
his wrist and the ship leveled at a larger rock in the field. Behind him,
twelve more of the winged spear-shaped fighters followed him. He flew
half-heartedly and his mind wandered back to his earlier musings.
The ships flew in and landed in the
old, junk filled, gargantuan room of a landing chamber and settled down in a
small cluster. Thirteen black-clad figures slid down their gray ships and
touched heavily on the floor. A few opened several loud conversations, but
their leader kept his thoughts to himself. They started across the
debris-ridden floor.
A loud, metallic crash sounded across
the large room. It at first was quiet, but the echoes increased it ten fold.
The group of pilots immediately stopped their forward movement and
conversations while at the same time drawing their pistols and scanning the
junk for any signs of life. Silence reigned for a few moments until the group
split up and slowly walked through the maze of dusty objects.
Their leader came upon a new object
that was, amazingly, in one piece. He had seen several like this before, with a
rectangular body and three wings reaching into the sky. He called for the
others and echoes of running footsteps served as a prelude to their arrival.
Their leader glanced around and
counted all thirteen of their number but echoes of footfalls still sounded
across the hall. Suddenly, one more man emerged from the rubble wearing a
black, loose tunic. Without saying a word, the newcomer reached his hand into
his tunic and soon held aloft a metallic object. He shifted his hand and two
purple shafts of light extended from either side of his fist.
“Blast, a jedi!” one pilot said. The
crew scattered and ran for cover, and when reaching sanctuary, opened fire. The
jedi twisted his wrists, deflecting the red bolts of energy into the corners of
the room. He didn’t advance but just stood there. After a while, the shooting
quieted and altogether stopped. The group was at a stand still.
The leader called out, “Who are you,
jedi?”
“The real question is who are you?”
the other replied.
“We live here and you are trespassing
on our property.”
“Wrong! You are trespassing, as
this is my home. Leave now!”
The leader thought this over for a few
minutes then said, “How do you figure that?”
“I grew up here,” the other explained.
Again, the leader thought this over, then wide eyed, leapt out of his hiding.
The intruder took a step forward, but stopped when the first raised his hands,
holding his blaster so that it threatened the floor.
“What’s your name?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I also grew up here, we all
did!” With this, he beckoned to his squadron and they followed his example.
The jedi lowered his weapon slightly,
saying, “I was called Flyboy.”
Immediately the other flung his pistol
around and, with his other hand, drew a second from his back, and in an
instant, thirteen armed men were again pointing deadly weapons at the newcomer.
“Why you bastard,
coming back here after all this time. You know, I should’ve killed you
when I had the chance. Well, looks like I get another one.”
With obvious sarcasm, the other said,
“Could I at least, as a final request, know the name of my killer?”
The first shrugged and said, “I’m
Darkon, and these fine fellows behind me are the Ghost Fighters.”
“What? You’re that little bully that
used to beat up on other kids until I straightened you out. And you’re gonna
try to take down me! Don’t make me laugh!”
Another man from the group stepped
closer to his commanding officer but still trained his weapon on Flyboy. He
said, “Um, Lead, since he is one of us, why are we still going to kill him?”
“Because he is a low-down scoundrel
who not only is he not actually a blood member of the family but that he most
likely betrayed us to the wolves.”
“I didn’t betray us!” the other
screamed.
“And you were the only one to survive
the fight. I find that hard to believe that a green pilot could live against
those odds…”
“I… I…” his voice began to squeak, “I
lost as many friends as you did.”
“I’m sure,” the leader said haughtily.
Another man sounded from the rear,
“Hey, he’s one of us, let him go.” Other voices shouted in, confirming the
first man’s opinion. Their leader glanced over his shoulders and saw that his
entire squadron was holding their weapons at their sides in a non-threatening
manner. With a sigh, he flipped the safety catches on his pistols and holstered
them.
“Well, since we’re unarmed, don’t you
think you should join the crowd, friend?” Darkon said. Flyboy, confused with
the sudden change in emotion, turned off both blades and put away his weapon.
The leader went to put a friendly arm around his shoulders, and when they
started walking towards the door, brought both his fists down heavily on his
head.
Flyboy awoke to the sight of bars.
After shaking his head to clear away the darkness and remember what just
happened he glanced around at his surroundings.
“Are you really one of us?” He focused
his vision past the bars and saw a rather young man being his jailor.
“Huh,” he said groggily.
“Are you one of us, a Blood Pirate?”
the other repeated patiently.
“Kid, don’t ask questions that you
really don’t want to know the answer to,” the other said.
The teenager shook his head, “Yes I
do. I’m one. We all are. Jax, Mithy, even Dark…”
“I know about Darkon,” the other
interrupted, “if you really want to know, go ask him. He remembers.” A voice
sounded from out of his vision, and after a few seconds, Darkon walked into
view with black-clad pilots behind him. Sitting up, he murmured, “Speak of the
devil”
Flyboy’s last comment brought a small
smirk to the other’s face. “Welcome back home, brother,” in not too
friendly tones.
“Remind me never to trust you,” the
other muttered.
“Still the same old Fly. How’s it been
going for you, working with the Wolf Pack?”
“I told you, I didn’t betray the
bloods, and I don’t know who did.” After a few seconds, he spoke up again, “Who
are your cronies?”
“What, you don’t remember them? Their
family too, you know.”
“I sure remember you,” the woman said,
“I remember how you used to flirt with me and all the rest of the girls. I
remember when you used to take me to your fighter and try to get me to sit in
your lap in the cockpit.”
The man in the cell look at the woman
and suddenly his face broke from his stern expression and what replaced it was
a lot jollier. “Seth, how did you hook up with old blowfish here?” Darkon’s
expression certainly got a bit darker, but he continued, “Still as pretty as
ever I see.”
“And your still the smooth-talking
jerk you ever were,” the other man in the room said. Seth glared at her
companion, but their leader got a little satisfaction from that interruption.
Flyboy, seeing whom else his tormentor
brought with him, sank back into his depression while slinking into a corner.
“Sithspit, it couldn’t just be Darkon, but ol’ Jeb Brok just had to show up
too. Well, now we have a real party.”
“And he still has a big mouth.”
“And you’re still as pig-headed as
ever. Now, tell me, what are you jokers doing here at
the old base.” Their leader turned to the jailor and said a few words. A few
moments later he brought back three chairs and Darkon and his retinue sat.
“We,” he indicated his crew, “are the Ghost Fighters. After the Blood Fighters were
destroyed by the wolves four years ago, the few transports that managed to get
away landed at Bespin and the family went off on their own. About a year ago,
Jeb and I got as many pilots as we could find from the old crew and formed a
‘ghost’ of what we once were. We fly out of the same base, use the same equipment,
and so on. It really gives us an edge on the merchants.”
“Well, maybe, but I never remember
wearing black,” Flyboy snorted.
Seth said, “I find it very slimming,”
and moved her hands down her sides in an imitation of certain holo stars.
“Okay, you know why we’re here, but
what about you?” Jeb said.
“Thought I’d come by and see the old
Pit again,” he said smiling. Just then the walls and floor rattled as a loud
boom sounded. An overhead intercom sputtered to life.
It said, “Wolf Hunting Pack, three squads,
get to the ships!” All the people in the room jumped from their seats, but
before they could get away, a hand snaked out and Darkon’s arm stopped moving.
His eyes looked down at the hand and then followed the attached arm until he
met his captor’s eyes.
“One squad against
three,” another explosion rocked the station, “and by the sound of it, some
bombers. You need all the help you can get.” The pinned man looked to
his advisors, and after a moment, they both nodded their agreement. The young
jailor unlocked the door and Flyboy walked out. “Great, I can have Lightening
Raven prepped and ready in a few…”
Darkon cut him off, “You mean that shuttle you came in. It should be more like Lightening ‘Plucked-turkey’ or Lightening Dove. No, we have something better.” Flyboy remembered that grin; it was the same one that Dark gave him before he knocked him out.
Fourteen winged-spears flew from the large hole in the rock into open space. Ahead of them flew over three-dozen ships of different sizes and shapes. Flyboy was happy to be in a fighter again, but the Z-95 the pirates gave him seemed to be a little sluggish in the controls and its engines sputtered every now and then, but nothing to get a daring ‘space pirate’ worried. To bad he hadn’t been a pirate for four years.
Not only was he worried about his ship, but the rest of the squadron flew behind him, and he couldn’t help but notice both Darkon’s and Jeb’s ships were directly behind him. Great, so he could get killed twice before he ever reached the enemy. What a day.
Then they came. One thing the Wolves are famous for is being cunning. They hunt in packs, taking strategy to a new depth by leaving some squadron mates for bate while others nip around a formation’s edge and cut them into manageably groups. One thing Blood Pirates are known for is that they are very observant.
“Watch your flanks, guys,” Flyboy said over the com.
“We know, we’ve fought wolves before,” Darkon answered back.
“So have I, remember,” the first sneered.
“Distinctly.” Before they could finish their argument, a red laser bolt ran through their formation and punched a hole through one ghost’s wing. The ships scattered and broke up into groups of four, flying every which way, trying to stay out of the enemy targeting brackets while trying to put some in theirs. The enemy pirate ships encircled the group in about every direction.
Since there weren’t enough pilots, Flyboy was paired with Darkon and the two faced seven enemies. Their adversaries grouped in one flight of four and one of three, and maneuvered so that they were coming in on the pair at angles. Since they both had the same training, they lined up with the group of three. The jedi took three sweeping potshots while maneuvering to meet the pack and was amazed to see one hit its target. Two more shots took one enemy out of the fight.
The fighter next to Fly’s fired two lasers at its target’s cockpit, whereas the fighter spinned uncontrollably out of the fracas. A torpedo disabled the third. By this time, the group of four passed the two and now formed up behind them. Laser after laser whizzed by the two fighters. They kept frantically spinning and dipping, trying their best to stay alive. Trying to distract the enemy, they flew across each other’s paths and weaved in and out of the floating asteroids. Suddenly, the two veered off in opposite directions and a fighter sized rock lay before the pack. One fighter had become cocky and had stayed a little too close behind the duo during their flight, and now it slammed full force into the stone. The others easily rotated around it and rolled to keep with their prey.
Two fighters now flew behind Darkon as he sped through the maze of stones. His com sputtered to life and Flyboy’s voice filled the static. “Hey, wanna do an old pal a favor and get this joker off my tail?”
“I’m a little busy here!” he shouted back. One laser grazed his nose right in front of the cockpit.
“Don’t worry about it, I’m coming to you.” At that moment, Flyboy’s ship rolled into view right in front of Darkon’s path. His loaned ship leveled itself directly at him. Twin lasers zipped around the fighter and its pursuer fell in behind the jedi. When the two fighters came upon each other, they rolled to be parallel to each other. As they flew past, they each destroyed a wolf ship. That left one fighter, and it still trailed Darkon’s ship.
He could tell this pilot was a veteran and wouldn’t fall for any of the simple maneuvers that the duo tried. So, all he had to do was try something complex. His mind shifted through various tricks and trials that he had picked up in his life, all the while trying to stay away from the red energy being sprayed around him. And then it came to him and he was almost distracted as another both of energy melted some paint on his wing. This one always won, and every time Darkon or another ghost flew it, whatever trailed them always ended up dead.
He flicked his wrist and his ship nosed down, then suddenly pulled up sharply for a few seconds, and then to port. He swung around a convenient asteroid and met two incoming pins of red light. His ship’s engines died slowly and his ship rocked into an uncontrollable flat spin. The stars outside spun wildly, but slowed down to a drift. Red, blue, green, and gold jewels twinkled on black velvet. They were like great points of light spinning lazily in a deep pool.
The view filled with a bright, white light. The white became yellow, then orange, then red until finally fading to black. A slight buzzing filled his ears, and for a few seconds, Darkon was confused about who and what he was, until the buzzing turned into words.
“Thought you needed a hand.” It took him a second, but he remembered someone from his past, someone he hated, someone who destroyed his past. Flyboy!
“You could've left me. If I’d died, you would’ve been free. Why?”
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re still a bastard, but you’re also family,” the voice came back.
“Family! Family! You had no family! My family took you in, but you were never one of us!” All the hatred from the years that he kept bottled inside started flooding out. As he screamed these words, he became exhausted as if his hatred for a man had fueled him.
Flyboy responded back in a rather jovial manner, but laced with durasteel. “You ever hear of something called ‘adoption’? Anyhew, can you fly?”
Darkon shook his head to clear his thoughts. He gaze ran over his blinking instruments. As an after thought, he stared out into space again. The stars were still spinning, but not as fast as what they once were. “Not yet, but I think only some circuits are fried. Give me a minute.”
“Check, I’m heading ou…, scratch that. Looks like our squad’s coming our way.” His sight focused on a group of faster moving stars, and they did indeed to be coming in their direction.
Another voice came across the com. “The wolves bugged out. Lead, how you hanging up?”
“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” Flyboy’s voice said. Darkon chose to ignore this since he did just save his life; after all, he deserved something.
“Just give me a minute, Jeb,” he said.
“Wait a second,” Flyboy said, “there’s something funny going on.” His ship moved in to block the view of Darkon’s cockpit, effectively guarding his ship from friendlies. “Jeb, lower your shields and power down your weapons.”
The entire squadron of pilots, their leader included, met this with disbelief and vocalized this on the channel. “Fly, get out of the way. Let me remind you that you are the prisoner here.”
“Yeah, Fly, what are you pulling at?” Jeb’s voice retorted.
“I was just thinking: How does a man and a good pilot fly into the thickest group of enemies, including some very good pilots on their part no doubt, and neither A: shoot down a single enemy or B: receive any actual burn marks himself while two other pilots were killed by the same group. My answer: he doesn’t.”
Jeb was almost laughing with his reply, “I did indeed score some hits and get some too, if you would just look at my…”
“Superficial,” Flyboy interrupted, “you were using powered down lasers and so were they.”
“What are you trying to do, buddy?” Jeb’s voice was tipped with blades this time. Darkon’s thoughts swam into his head and gelled with his old enemy’s own thoughts. As far as he could remember, every time the Ghosts had engaged the wolves, he either didn’t score any kills or he wasn’t present at all. Even going back to the evacuation and the destruction of the Blood Pirates, the transport Jeb’s family was on got out first and was never attacked. Their escort never even got fired at.
“Old friend, you’re wasting energy, you can power down.” He tried to diffuse the situation before anything got out of hand. Like Flyboy said, things didn’t add up.
“WHAT?” Jeb’s voice exploded over the speakers, “You’re going to trust this, this traitor over family? After all I’ve done for you; after all I’ve been for you! I, I should have killed him when I had the chance. I-, I-,” his voice began to quake and take on deeper tones than usual, “I should have killed you when I had the chance, all of you!” With memories and pains running through Darkon head, he couldn’t see what unfolded in front of his ship.
Flyboy’s Headhunter glided up and around to chase Jeb’s fleeing back. Laser after laser slammed into the back of his shields, but they didn’t penetrate until after another star entered the black of space. The blue ball streaked out of the explosion of its mother ship and rocketed towards the helpless Darkon. An explosion rocked the back of the ship; then all went black for its occupant.
A single star arose into the starless sky, but it covered the view. Its white light shadowed in areas, but grew until no more blackness could be seen. Then the shadows melded and coalesced into forms and figures. One form was of a balding man who almost eclipsed the light from above. Consciousness flooded into Darkon’s brain and with it flowed pain. His hand reached to the back of his head, but instead of hair and skin he felt only cold metal.
The man, as if reading his thoughts, put a mirror in his hands. The pirate slowly sat up and moved his head and the mirror in order to see his entire skull. Everything was as he remembered except for one slight detail; the back of his head was gone. In its place was a diamond of metal and computer components, with it covering his skull from ear to ear and from the top of his brain stem to the bottom of his former hairline.
“How you feel’n, handsome?” a familiar voice asked. He glanced up and saw Flyboy standing over his bed.
“What happened?” Darkon squeaked.
“Well, it turns out our old friend Jeb and his family were all Wolf spies. He shot off a torpedo before I could fry him and I shot it down before it actually hit your hull and do some real damage. Ol’ Doc here,” he put a hand on the old man’s shoulder, “managed to patch you up, but it looks like you won’t be winning any beauty pageants anytime soon.”
“This doesn’t change anything you know,” Darkon said. Flyboy’s expression seemed to darken a little. “You’re still a bastard.” Both men couldn’t help from displaying grins.
“And so are you.” After a few moments, he extended his hand and said, “Partners?”
Darkon looked at it blankly, but after a few moments, he grabbed the other’s hand and said, “Partners.”
* * *
“There’s
one thing I still don’t understand.” Both Flyboy and Darkon’s wide smiles faded
quickly and they looked towards
The other two looked relieved and regained a little of their smiles. “Is that all?” Flyboy said, “I thought it was something hard.”
“You see,” the other started, “most of us were actually family.”
“The legend says that the original Blood Pirates were founded by five brothers.”
Darkon, nodding as his friend said this, continued, “Through the decades, their children married and brought many families into the fold.”
“Not only that. Friends of the family were sometimes adopted into the organization after doing some great deed.”
“We bloods have been living in the Pit for almost a century and the count before we were scattered was somewhere around 180 people in the family.”
Guns are a Girl’s
Best Friend:
“En route to beacon 334-Mark 2. ETA: 20 minutes,” the pilot said. She was of average height and better than average build, with short, wild black hair. Though she was a rather good-looking woman, she would shoot the first man who tried to make something of that. She was an ‘honest’ merchant after all.
Her hands glided across the modified control board, reaching into handholds with different joysticks and moving over different switches and buttons. The control board didn’t seem to belong to the freighter, but after all, this wasn’t supposed to be a freighter, either. The ship, named Crystal’s Shard after its current pilot, was originally an assault ship, but heavily modified.
Taking visual
designs from one of the leading figures of womanhood in the criminal
underworld,
The captain’s chair was situated in the midst of controls but also in the middle of a transparasteel egg jutting in between the two laser cannons. This gave the pilot a very good view of the surrounding space, but she wished it had something exciting to look at since black was basically the color. She flipped a switch and the chair moved backwards, letting her free of the closed-in control board and allowing her access to the rest of the ship. She pushed herself out and onto the deck beside her and strode to the rear of the cabin. Tannash, her lizard copilot, stood at his own control board jutting from the floor right behind the pilot’s chair.
Tannash spoke up after a moment of silence in his usual reptilian manner. “This path does not seem right,” he hissed.
“Oh, Tannash,” his captain scolded, “you’re acting like a hatchling. We’ve done this run before, and nothing happened…”
“Yet.”
“It’ll be fine,” she answered back, but then she said under her breath, “I hope.” Just at that moment, a warning beacon sounded in the room. “Not a word,” she said coldly. Her partner let out a guttural hiss in response.
“Do you need to say that every time,” he replied with a Trandoshan’s equivalent to a smile. He turned and ducked in order to get through the neck of the ship. The pilot strapped herself in again and reached into the recesses that held the control sticks to the engines.
At that
moment, a buzzing sound came alive in the cramped space of the cockpit and a
voice carried over the ship’s speakers. “Merchant Vessel, this is the Ghost
Pirates,” the voice said.
Not heeding the warning of the pirate, she rotated the ship in order to line up the main guns with the wing of pirate ships. She glanced at her various displays again and suppressed a small laugh. “Their flying old Z-95’s, I didn’t think anyone actually used those rust buckets anymore,” she declared under her breath.
The small group of spear shaped ships soared nose first at their prey, but as they neared, Tannash in the cramped turret chair rested his clawed fingers on two buttons and all four of the ship’s guns sprayed golden light. The ships scattered like a flock of birds, but he managed to track one ship with the turret’s muzzles and again he opened fire. The gold lances shot up at the ship but disappeared in bright sparks just inches from the fighter’s hull.
His friend’s voice crackled to life in his ears, “Okay, so maybe they have a few upgrades from the stock versions.”
The fighters were not surprised at the ship’s disregard for their orders, and the wing swooped around towards their intended prey again. Two ships detached themselves from the scatter formation and turned to fly straight at her side. As they neared, the lead ship fired a single scarlet warhead that hit against the ship’s hull. Scarlet arcs of fire raced across the ship and the glow from the Shard’s guns died away. The second pirate ship loosed another warhead, this one a glowing purple. When it exploded, the ship’s engines died as well.
After Crystal’s Shard was disabled, and after much swearing by it’s captain, the pirates escorted it by way of a tractor beam into the heart of a large asteroid in the nearby belt. In the asteroid was a huge, metallic room that served as a hangar bay. A quarter of it was clear, except for the ships that berthed there, and the rest of the gargantuan room was filled with an odd array of garbage.
The captured prize settled to the deck with a soft clang, and two black-clad pilots moved out to meet their guests. From the narrow neck of the new ship, a ramp extended and down it walked the dark haired pilot. She saw that both men carried weapons. One, in fact, had two pistols, one in either hand, and he held them like he knew exactly how to use them. She reached the bottom of the ramp, flashed a toothy smile, then quickly ducked and rolled out of the way. Behind her, her co-pilot hefted a very large gun with both hands. The two black-clad figures looked at each other than leapt out of the way before a cloud of blue engulfed the area where they once were.
After the
explosion,
* * *
A hazy light blossomed from the dark depths of unconsciousness, and the pinpoint of light flooded to all the corners of the view. Then, softly, it grew dimmer as the sleep ended. Centered in her now conscious sight was simply a light in the wall, or, as she realized moments later, the ceiling. The memories from her last actions swam to the forefront of her mind, and the woman shot bolt upright. She suddenly wished she hadn’t as the room spun recklessly and the light faded again.
* * *
The light
shown amidst the darkness, and its white beacon ran the blackness of sleep away
for a second time. Regaining her thoughts before any action,
She again tried to sit up, but slowly, as if trying to keep her head from falling off. “You okay?” she whispered to her companion. He didn’t reply, but instead turned to look through the bars into the adjoining hallway. Shadows crawled across the rock wall beyond the barrier of bars followed by soft voices growing louder. A moment later several black-clad figures entered her view and took up stations opposite the two prisoners.
The tallest of the group spoke first. “You should’ve listened to us.”
“Why is
that?”
“Because you wouldn’t be here,” the other answered matter-of-factly. As her faculties drew out of their slumber, she focused more on her captors. The lead figure talking to her now had on his belt a rather large blaster and a metal tube wrapped in cloth with four deadly looking points protruding from either end. To his right stood a slightly shorter man with twin heavy blaster pistols on either hip. When he turned his head, she noticed that the back of it was metallic and had a few lights of different sizes and colors arrayed on the part she could see. The woman on their left held her medium length hair in a ponytail and held herself as both a playful woman and a deadly killer, which is rather hard to do if you think about it. The last clearly seen person was a boy in his late teens with short, ruffled red hair and freckles. They all looked like veteran warriors, even the boy; like they are capable of anything asked of them.
“Well then, come to gloat or give me your demands, or are you going to break down and tell me your master plan of how to take over the universe and how it involves me and my ship.” She was starting to wake up. The group of people just stared at her with very confused expressions.
“Actually, we just wanted to see if you wanted anything,” the lead figure said.
“You mean other than letting us go?”
“Of course,” he responded without a beat of hesitation. He had obviously been through this before. He noticed her expression, “We really don’t like being fired on, if that’s why you’re wondering why we are keeping you here.”
“Oh, and I thought you wanted me for my looks,” she replied dryly.
“Well, it’s certainly not for your witty repartee.”
“Will you both just shut up,” the other girl interrupted, “are you sure you guys aren’t related or something!” The other people in the room turned to her, including Tannash, and gave her a look of confusion. She stared back. “Well, you’re acting like when me and my brother get together!”
The metal head put a restraining hand on her shoulder, saying, “Its okay, Seth, we’ll get you the help you need.” This was met with a rather forceful elbow in his ribs. The lead man just held his face in his hands.
“Look will ya,” he said after a few moments, “do we need to go
through this every single…” A loud buzzing cut him off and another voice took
over. It was automated, or at least
“Look,
these wolves, whoever they are,”
“You know,” the tall one with the metal thing began, “this sounds awfully familiar.”
“And the last time this happened, we got an arrogant bastard,” the metal head responded.
“Which
makes two,” the other said, returning the glare. He then turned to
“I don’t like this,” growled Tannash from his perch.
“I don’t either,” she replied. Over the next several minutes, they both tried to ignore the warning sirens and figure a way out of their captivity with little success on either front. Before the pilot thought she would go insane the klaxon abruptly halted. It was another handful of minutes before they understood why. Six gray-clad figures entered the small brig and wordless worked on the locks. Wordlessly, that is, until one of the captives berated them with questions such as who the hell are you, what the hell are you doing here, and others along those lines.
Once they got the locks open, their annoyance showed through their impassive guise and they handled the inquisitive prisoner with a little less grace than what her partner thought was appropriate. As the lizard’s would-be-rescuers tried to help him to his feet, he lashed out with his three-clawed hand and raked it across the nearest one’s face. He cried in panic, terror, and altogether pain and crumbled onto the floor with his hands covering his face. The woman drove a steel-toed boot into a rather sensitive place and another gray soldier folded into his own small universe of pain.
After
seeing what had happened to their comrades, the other four men drew rather
dangerous looking blasters. Tannash leapt into the air, threw out a hand that
caught a bar, and swung himself around the cell
doorframe and into a third figure. He flew back against the stone wall and fell
to the floor.
As they cautiously strode out of the hall of cells, they entered another corridor, one that was much larger than the one they were just in. For starters, it was two stories tall and wide enough to fit two lanes of repulsorlift traffic and sidewalks. The upper story had a thinner gangplank moving on the opposite side from where they were standing, though it had offshoots running into the wall behind them. This particular wall was made of stone, and since this was an asteroid base, they came to the conclusion that they were moving away from the center. That observation was helped slightly by the fact that the other wall, floor, and ceiling were made of metal. They both stared down either end of the great, low-lit hall, but they could not see the end because it was curved ever so slightly.
Blaster
fire resounded down the corridor followed by the sharp smell of burnt flesh and
ozone. They quietly walked towards where they thought the hangar bay would be,
and unfortunately, that was where the firefight appeared to be. Then, like out
of a fog, ran the metallic-headed man.
“Nice,” he said.
“Would you mind taking her?” a voice said by her ear. She was then pushed forcefully but gently towards the first speaker. He likewise took a hold of her, turning her around and wrapping his arms around not-to-helpful parts of her body. She then saw who had taken her so easily; it was that tall one with that strange metal thing. At his feet lay Tannash.
“You…” she spat, he held up his hand before she could finish.
“He’s not dead, just a little tired,” he said to her relief.
“Not for
long, Fly,”
Tannash was a little surprised by the fact that something that he had thrown didn’t roll into a ball. He was even more surprised by how his friend had suddenly been taken by that unusual looking human. He was really surprised by the fact that he couldn’t remember the last few seconds. But Trandoshans don’t let surprise bother them as shown by the fact that he quickly pushed himself off the floor and crouched into a fighting stance facing the other weird human. The scrawny little man stood up and pulled the unusual device from his belt. He twirled it in his hands, then, to the amazement of all present, two shafts of purple light extended from either end. The twirling lights cast eerie shadows around the room and presented its holder with a terrifying image.
He advanced, swinging the strange lights like weapons. Tannash was no fool, and knew that his prey was also no fool and would not fight a ton of deadly scales and claws with only lights. But, before the two figures reached each other, three streaks of red laser light zoomed past the group. Fly, as the other pirate called him, turned to face the bolts even before they reached them. He flicked his wrist as two more closed on the group, and when they hit the strange purple lances, they rebounded and shot up into the darkness above.
“Well, this is fun, but we can’t stay here,” said Fly.
“The others
should be at command about now,” the half-man said. He turned his head towards
“And why should I go with you?” she shot back.
“Because we don’t want to kill you,” he said, and then finished under his breath, “we just want your cargo.” He let her go, but as she reached down for the blaster, his foot got in her way. Before she could argue, he was pushing her along the hall, and more importantly, away from the lasers. The man with the helpful purple lights stayed behind to deflect a few more blasts before following the rest of the group. They ran for a few good minutes without too much trouble, but as they neared a door on the rock wall, they noticed that there were lights both ahead and behind.
“Sithspit!” Fly said. “I’ll hold off the pack while you guys go ahead.”
“Nice try,” the other of them said.”
“Darkon, you can’t tell me that you can take care of an entire hunting pack on your own.”
“Listen Flyboy, I can handle anything you throw at me, and I’ve been taking packs since the battle.”
“And I’ve been hunting the wolves before the battle, remember?”
“Boys,
boys, this room has enough testosterone,”
Without another word, Darkon strode from the group to the middle of the corridor and turned to face his, for want of a better term, allies. He spread his legs apart and drew both heavy pistols from their holsters. He raised a pistol towards each group of enemies, one to his right and left, and turned his head to face one. As they drew near, he opened fire with both guns. He only got off three shots before they got over their surprise, but no bolt of light was spared. Each hit a target squarely in the chest, and both groups were just that smaller.
Turning, he fell onto one leg while bringing the other around to catch himself and turn his momentum into a forward roll, all the while shooting at the enemy. Again, each shot hit someone on the opposing side, but some only hit arms or legs or just grazed a part of the body. After his roll, he got up and ran the other way, swinging both blazing guns towards one group of wolves. In a matter of seconds they were all dead, and that left only three or four others to his back. He then jump and spin in mid air, shooting only as he needed, and his targets hit the floor before he did.
“He’s
good,”
“Don’t get him started,” Flyboy returned.
“Weren’t you supposed to be running away or something? I distinctly remember something about running away,” Darkon said as he walked back towards the group.
“How did you… I mean what’s with the… I mean with the shooting… and, and the shooting… in two directions…”
Darkon
pointed at the back of his head in response to Flyboy’s questions, “What? You
thought this thing was just for looks?” The other had no time to respond as an
explosion rocked the walls. The two pirates immediately ran through the door
with the two merchants just moments behind them. They
ran for a good while and through many different structures. They ran up stairs,
down corridors, through doors, and finally rode a turbolift up into,
“Report,”
Darkon commanded. The boy that was with the group earlier called from a corner
that everyone was here.
“What’s going on here?” she said after she couldn’t take it anymore.
“What do you mean what’s going on here?” the girl from earlier, Seth if she could remember correctly, said. “We’re getting attacked by wolves.”
“See, there, that’s what I mean. Who are the wolves? More importantly, who the hell are you?”
Flyboy pulled her over to a corner and whispered into her ear. “Listen, okay, we never meant to pull you into this, and if we get out of here alive, I’ll personally reimburse both you and your friend there for whatever cargo you lost, but you gotta trust that we are the good guys here.”
“That’s a little hard to believe since you attacked first.”
“Hey, it’s a pirate thing. I’ll try to explain later, but right now, we need to find a way out alive, and I mean all of us, understand me?”
She looked into his eyes and even though she so desperately wanted to, and did, hate the man, she couldn’t help but feel that he was telling the truth. “Okay,” she said back. After giving his thanks, he turned back to his friends who were already deep in planning. Many minutes passed, and the dark-haired pilot was beginning to think that whoever it was down there was going to get up here before these guys even finished their plan. But they eventually finished, and she grudgingly accepted that it was feasible, that is, the parts she understood.
The men and
women that could walk headed off to their appointed tasks. Flyboy, Darkon,
Tannash, and
“They haven’t been here thirty minutes and they have an E-web set up! The nerve of some people,” Flyboy said sarcastically. Before anyone else could make more remarks on the subject, a round object flew through the air towards them. The speaker pushed out his hand as to reflect the object away, but before it even touched him, it turned around in mid air and went around the corner where it came from. A moment later a huge explosion rushed past them and a few limp bodies rebounded of the opposite wall.
“Guess that
took care of that,” he said matter-of-factly and turned the corner. The others
followed suit, though Seth murmured to
Flyboy
already had his light stick spinning around him, deflecting blaster bolts away
from him. Darkon started up again with how he makes killing people from far
away look playful and easy, and Tannash rushed the enemy with his usual tactic
of grab this guy, throw him into that guy/thing/wall, repeat, which works very
well for him.
She turned to see one of the gray guys closing in behind Flyboy with an unhealthy looking blade in one hand. As he reached over his head, she pulled the trigger and he fell to the floor. The now semi-safe pirate turned to look at his heroine.
She said, “I missed,” and shrugged. In a matter of moments, the rest of the invading force had been dealt with. The defensive team was a little burned, maybe limping here and there, but was still standing which couldn’t be said for the others. The entire pirate gang and associates gathered in the middle of the hangar to assess the situation.
As the
others were talking, Flyboy pulled
She thought about this for a moment. “My ship was damaged in your attack, and I think after what you put us through, you could repair it.”
“Done, though it might take a while. Would you want to stay here for a few days or so?”
Again, she thought about his last comment, then with a business like expression said, “Deal, though this time can we try it without the bars?”
* * *
The others
stared in disbelief at
“What?” she said sounding hurt, “I thought we were telling stories.” Again, her love and friend just put his head in his hands murmuring things like make it stop and my head hurts.
“Hey!” Darkon shouted, “Speaking of stories, I got a good one.”
“Does anyone have a blaster?” his friend said weakly from his hands.
“Okay,
okay, there were these two Ithorians…” Darkon began. But his words fell on deaf
ears as
Ties Stronger than Blood or Vengeance: Tannash’s Tale
The sun rose over the harsh desert as the hunter moved onto his prey. The creature was small yet fast and furtive, and therefore a score worthy of this hunter. It moved freely in and out of the crevices in the large rock outcropping, unaware of why fate lay for it just overhead. The predator slowly crawled down the cliff face and positioned his talons just over the creature. With lightening speed, it fled from sight just half a moment before three great claws crashed into the rock floor. The hunter turned from his failed hunt and dropped to the ground as the roar of engines filled his ears.
He turned to watch a little skitter touch down on the small area of flat rock on this particular outcropping. He waited as the door slid open and a ramp extended to let three lizard-like creatures out. Trandoshans, or T’doshok in their native tongue, are in fact a mix between lizards and humans. Each has two legs and two arms with three clawed appendages on all of their feet and hands. Scales covered their bodies from head to toe and they had hard ridges on their heads reached down their backs as protection from other creatures.
The three new arrivals surveyed the area with their bright orange eyes before they turned their gaze towards the fourth one. They studied him for several moments, noticing the new sunlight gleaming off of his tan scales and the youth in his snout and demeanor. They appraised his constrained muscles under his hard outer-cover and the deathly gleam in the eyes of the hunter. Only after several moments of this were they then ready to speak.
“Hunter Tannash?” the growls and hisses of their speech portrayed the true nature of the species: predators.
“What is it that you wish?” the tan-one answered.
“We are on the hunt and require information,” another of the three said.
“My answers will earn the Jagannath,” the other said. His phrase was chosen for its emphasis on the honor given to him in the hunt rather than giving information because he respected these new arrivals.
This disrespect did not alter the mood any. “We hunt a human named Cor Veratt,” said the third.
The youthful Tannash played this over in his mind for a few moments and asked deliberately, “Yes?”
“We have seen that you, Tannash, and this human have partnered in the hunt in the past,” the first one said.
“Yes, just as I have partnered with many other races in order to quell my prey.”
“We wish to know where he is,” continued the second.
“But I do not know.”
“Then you may continue on the hunt,” the third one finished, “Hunt well, seeker Tannash.” And with that the three turned and headed towards their ship. An instant later, a tan arm snaked out and grasped one of the speaker’s heads. Before he could fight back, he was thrown forcefully over the cliff face and fell several meters to the desert floor beneath.
Hearing their ally’s cry, the remaining two twirled around and readied themselves for a fight, hissing and scratching all the while. But they weren’t quick enough as their assailant rebounded off one of the stonewalls and met his foot with one speaker’s face. The last T’doshok leapt at the attacker with his jaws wide open, hoping to bite into his neck. But Tannash flung up his left arm in defense, and the speaker’s sharp teeth sunk into the flesh of his thumb. Tannash whipped around, tearing off his finger but bringing his other hand towards his prey and bodily shoved his head onto one of the sharper rock outcroppings. To make sure all three were dead, he flung the two other bodies off of the cliff to meet their friend.
Now, moving
quickly, he tore off some of his already sparse clothing and wrapped it around
his bleeding hand. The hunter then leapt off of the opposite cliff, catching
the rock wall about a third of the way down. He had only hours before the sun
reached its
He luckily reached his home before the heat of the afternoon set in. No one took notice of his wounded hand as he walked amidst the sloping, scale-like buildings. T’doshok normally return to their nests after long hunts missing appendages. The tan lizard quietly walked in the shadows to his home and finally relaxed slightly once he entered its cool air.
As he strode by his computer terminal, a light flashed on its surface and a tone sounded. He reached over with his good hand and read the message. It simply said, “I need your help…”, though by reading it the activities earlier became clearer. After rereading the cryptic message he hurriedly gathered a small bag of essentials before stepping into the heat of the day again. Not many others were outside at this time of day, being that most of the species in the city were cold blooded. Tannash made his way down one of the wider walkways and stepped into a large, open building. Though he was not sentimental in nature being a hunter, he still stared in awe at what he saw before him. It was a ship, large in its splendor and of such a sleek design that the universe itself seemed to spiral in on this one focal point, making all else insignificant. He had seen it many times, both in waking and sleeping hours. He had never dreamed to see it in his waking state again.
A small, white-haired man slowly walked from under the gleaming hull and made his way the newcomer. He had slowed down over the years, letting old age take its toll on his body. Yet, with his gait and stature, he gave off an aura of having been everywhere and having seen everything, and was still a force to be reckoned with. At last he finally stepped up to the towering being before him. “I was beginning to wonder if you would come.”
The other opened his mouth to speak, but the man reached up and placed his hand over the lizard’s snout. It was a particularly daring feat since the lizard had rather large teeth and the man’s flesh was rubbing against some of the sharper ones. The old man simply said, “Thanks,” and grabbed Tannash’s things and carried them into the ship. The towering lizard followed suit.
Wordlessly, both of them readied the ship and themselves for departure and, after several minutes, left the world of Trandosha behind them. Only after the ship was halfway between the hot world and the entrance to hyperspace did the two finally talk.
“I’m glad you decided to join me,” the white haired man said.
“Cor,” the tan lizard started, “have I ever denied you of my services.”
“No, but your friends would like to.” With that, he turned back to his console in the small cockpit of the ship. A small light began to blink furiously and Cor said, “Speak of the sith. Looks like someone wants to talk to you.”
Tannash reached down to his console and pushed the appropriate buttons. An image of a green reptile appeared on the formally dark screen and it spoke in a series of hisses and grunts. Tannash responded in turn, but rather more harshly.
“Trouble with the boss?” the old man chuckled. The lizard managed to glare back at the other, but with no menace. He turned back to his screen by the time the green lizard was finishing his statement. The screen went blank very suddenly and firmly. “Seems we have some company,” Cor said rather matter of factly as he turned back to his own console, “same old play?”
“You fly, I…” Tannash started.
“You shoot, yes I remember,” the other finished with a wistful smile, “Better get to it.” The tall reptile, without a moment’s hesitation, turned and ducked down the small passageway towards the rear of the craft. After the tunnel opened wider and taller he reached up with his good hand and grasped a bar in the ceiling. He pulled himself up into a small, round station with a hanging basket-like chair. After strapping himself in, the reptile reached to two control sticks and with his left claw he rotated the turret towards the incoming craft.
The enemy ships were short and wide, with a central body that had claw-like extensions sweeping outwards. As soon as the closest ship was in range, Tannash pushed down on the right trigger and a spray of golden light shot towards the fighter. It exploded in a brilliant flash of red light. The other fighters, not expecting this ship to put up much of a fight, scattered in surprise and swarmed around the larger vessel. After they regained their composure, the small squadron split up into pairs and flanked the freighter.
Tannash hurridly turned his little turret to face every group of fighters in turn. As he rotated to face each pair, they split off in retreat and juked so to make them harder to hit. He fired quickly as he turned to each group, and managed to score several hits on the attackers before they could turn away. But they were too fast for his movements and the fighters closed fast. Bright green lances shot from their wingtips and with each hit the freighter shook violently.
Suddenly, the larger ship rocketed away on new found speed and shot downward for a few moments before it turn sharply upwards. The fighters, shaken slightly by the freighter’s surprising maneuverability, rotated to follow the ship’s insane twists and turns, all the while being shot at by the top turret. Desperately, Tannash pulled on the triggers nonstop and raked his golden lances all across his view. As the freighter maneuvered away from its attackers he had to hurridly readjust his targeting. The swarm of fighters continually fired volleys at the escaping vessel, and with each successful hit the ship shuddered like it was going to fall apart any moment. Suddenly, the stars rocketed away from view and the blue-white tunnel of hyperspace filled the lizard’s vision.
He slowly climbed down from his perch and practically crawled to the main cabin. Cor was just disentangling himself from his own controls as his old friend came to join him. But before his could say anything, the older man bekoned the other to follow as he left down the hall. They both walked past the turret and turned to a small doorway just off the corridor. Cor opened the door and stepped inside. Tannash looked around before following suit, and the door hissed close behind him. He surveyed his new surroundings to find the old familiar cabin with a small bed to one corner and the computer in the opposite. But in the center of the small room was also something quite new: a small girl, about six years of age, with long black hair. She sat amidst the chaos of a small child content to play with every toy she had, and all her play things, whether meant for a child or not, were sorted around her in a large circle.
“This,” Cor
started after a few moments, “is why I need your help.” His friend turned to
face him as he continued, and as his words spoke on, Tannash’s
face grew less predatorial and more guarded. “This is
my daughter, Crystal. She’s everything I have in the world. After we split, I
went and found a wife. She was the most beautiful thing I ever did see…” His
eyes started to glaze over at this point, but he fought back the tears and
after a few seconds, he continued on. “We… we settled down to raise a family
not too long after that. We had a son, Dane, and
“They money ran out soon after, and being an honest merchant wasn’t going to give me and my daughter any kind of life, so I went back to Undarieo for one final job. Only the Imps caught me and I had to dump the spice. Now he wants my head. That was two years ago, and we’re still kick’n.”
After a long pause, his old friend cocked his head and hissed, “Where to now?”
* * *
The ship lurched out of hyperspace into a quite and peaceful sector of the galaxy, far distant from most of the galaxy’s concerns and tribulations. It skirted the atmosphere of the tranquil world of Dantooine and dropped towards the largest of the oceans. Gliding mere yards above the still waters the silvery vessel soared on towards white cliffs rising out from the depths below. Cor landed his prize a few miles from the shore with the intent of an extended stay. The three of them had a peaceful lifestyle, in stark contrasts to their previous ones. Young Crystal would often play in the tall grasses and run with what little creatures she could find, always under the watchful eye of either Tannash or her father. After staying in the ship for several weeks, the two friends set out to construct a shelter out on the plains next to the ship. What they accomplished was more of a cross between an open-aired stockade and a town house.
After a month’s rest and respite, the food stores were wearing thin. Tannash hunted as much as he could after his claw had healed and regrown, and Cor traded often with the native Dantari, but the herds migrated south and the nomadic primitives followed soon after. It was then decided that one adult would leave on the ship, which Tannash eventually found out that Cor renamed it Crystal’s Shard after his daughter, while the other would be left to look after the young girl. Whoever was to go made sure to leave no trail behind, and to flit about the galaxy as much so as not to be followed. These trips came every month or two, just whenever the three needed something.
As it was
nearing
The lizard overheard some miners conversing about some special gems found out in the badlands to the west. He gathered some water and food and ventured out into the rocky outcrop that he had heard about. After searching for almost an hour, Tannash located a small cave that held the violet jewels he was looking for. He found one jutting from the wall that was about the size of his palm and he scratched it out with his claw. Just moments after he pocketed the stone a familiar scent wafted down the tunnel that made his neck muscles tighten and his eyes to focus to a small slit. He took three deep breaths then, with lightening-quick speed, he lashed around with his left claw towards the opening, but all it cut was the air. He stood in puzzlement for an instant as he drew even more air into his nostrils. The scent of the air hadn’t changed. But, as he focused more on the different layers, there was another texture he hadn’t realized before.
Scaled arms shot out from the darkness behind Tannash and his own arms were pinned behind his back. He cried and tried to lash out, but the two Trandoshans holding his arms were as strong as he was and he couldn’t budge their grip. Up ahead came a broken hiss, chuckling to the universe at large for the irony of the current situation. Two silhouettes removed themselves from the outside world and walked slowly down the ramp into the cave.
“I told you,” started one voice. With it carried an air of authority and wallowed in arrogance. “I told you I would have my way. No one betrays Undarieo and lives. You knew that from the start, and still… and still you had to go your own way. Just remember I always keep my word.” The man walked out of the shadows and Tannash saw that the years had changed his former employer little. He was still a tall, stocky man with a pleasant face and charm to match. His hair had grown thinner and was now completely gray, but he seemed as deadly and full of spit as he always was.
“Greetings, brother,” stated the other shadow. The dark green lizard slithered behind Undarieo like all good henchmen should do. “It has been a long time.”
“Not long enough, Kishak!” Snorted Tannash. His brother slithered out from behind his employer, gazed deftly at Tannash’s form, and raked his claws deeply across his brother’s face.
“You betrayed me,” he hissed, “You betrayed our family, our race, and more importantly, you betrayed the hunt by siding yourself with the hunted.” Kishak grasped his brother’s bleeding face and held it close to his own snout. “Cor is a hunted man. You help the hunted, and you become the prey.” He forced his brother to look into his eyes. “Tell us where your friend is, and we’ll give you a quick death.”
After a few moments of silence, Kishak violently threw Tannash’s face away and growled deeply.
“No matter, Kishak,” stated Undarieo, “we’ll just take his ship and find them that way. He can die with the rest of them.” And with that, the man turned and walked up out of the cave. Kishak, after a moment’s hesitation, turned to his captive brother and landed a heavy blow to his head. All went dark for his brother.
The storm clouds were building as Cor exited out of the rather comfortable house they had built. He gazed up as the billowing masses churned and fueled the coming tablow. His daughter, still the young and energetic girl, bounded across her play yard to latch on to her father’s legs. Thunder sounded, and a supersonic boom indicated a ship was entering the atmosphere in their area. A few seconds later, Crystal’s Shard cut through the tumult in the sky and landed a few yards from the house.
Cor and his daughter walked towards the ship just as a second sonic boom echoed through the world. He lifted his gaze to see a second ship working its way through the atmosphere.
“Run.” He
told his daughter.
“Cor, there you are,” a familiar voice sounded from the ramp of the shard. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“So you’ve found me, Undarieo, where’s Tannash. I supposed you’ve killed him like all your other minions.”
“He’s right here!” grunted Kishak. He and his fellow trandoshan hunting party departed from the other ship. Between the two unnamed lizards was Tannash’s constricted body. The prisoner gazed through swollen eyes at his friend across the yard, and Cor and Tannash seemed to share a lifetime of conversation.
“Kishak,” Undarieo called to his underling without shifting his gaze from Cor, “do what you will with your brother. But leave me and my… old friend to talk a while.” The lizard gave a slight smirk, ever more meanacing by showing his fangs, and led the other trandoshans away from the two humans.
The four warriors walked the plains of Dantooine as the approaching storm drew ever nearer. In a few minutes they reached cliffs overlooking the ocean. Kishak hissed to his followers and they released their prisoner rather violently. While still laying on the ground, his brother periodically beat and kicked Tannash, relishing each sound of anguish that escaped his snout. Finally, after he had his fill, Kishak pulled his brother up so he could look into his eyes.
“Now, brother, you will die without honor, without glory, and will never have peace in death.” Kishak spit in his brother’s face. After staring into his eyes, he let go of his brother and give him a gentle push towards the edge. Just as he was about to go over, Tannash’s arms shot out around his brother’s shoulders and he slammed his skull full force into Kishak’s snout. The fire in his eyes were back. The aches and pains of his wounds were mere whispers. His family, is true family needed his help.
The first trandoshan came at Tannash, still surprised and bewildered at this new fight. In a split second the wounded lizard ripped out the attacker’s throat and let him die slowly on the ground. The second trandoshan was slightly more recovered, but as he moved toward Tannash he was thrown over the cliff by the beserker. By this time Kishak had recovered from the head blow and started to snarl and bare his teeth. As children they had been equals in the hunt. But, as with all trandoshan family ties, they were hardly more than amiable rivals. Kishak had, for the whole of their lives, wanted to end his brother’s hunt prematurely. Before it was all too easy. Now it was entertaining.
Tannash snaked out his right arm and let its momentum carry his claws to his foe. They cut deeply into Kishak’s leathery hide, drawing the greenish blood to the surface. He retaliated by leaping full force upon his brother, throwing both of them to the ground with just enough mindset to keep from falling off the cliff’s edge. The two wrestled with each other, taking every opportunity to sink claw, talon, and teeth into each other. Kishak’s jaw latched onto his brother’s neck, and Tannash reach up, dug his hand between teeth and hide, and pulled his attacker forcefully from him, almost breaking Kishak’s jaw in the process. With the short interval of shock, Tannash pulled in legs up in between the two bodies and threw his brother away.
Kishak landed in a roll and immediately sprang back to his earlier position, but his brother had, just moments, before rolled away from him. Tannash, while propped up on one arm, swung his fist into the other’s snout, breaking some of the soft bones beneath. Kishak snarled and his left arm slashed across the other’s chest, leaving deep lines already filling with blood. While still moving, Tannash grabbed the arm, twisted it, and forced his brother into a neck hold. The other squirmed violently, but as Tannash pressed his face up against his brother’s, he twisted his rival’s neck and broke it. He held the body as the last breath escape and released it to fall to the sea. Tannash had finally proven himself to be the greater trandoshan, but at the cost of being accepted by them.
After standing for the barest of moments to catch his breath, he turned and ran as fast as his battered body would allow. The wind had already reached its peak and the tall grass was nearly bent horizontal. The thunder grew louder and the lightening nearer. As Tannash neared his former home, two men stood stock still. Then, just as he could start to make out individual features, a boom echoed across the landscape and a red light illuminated both men. In seconds, Cor lay dead on the ground.
Tannash lowered his arms to the ground and, running on all fours, found new speed and determination. The anger filled up inside him. Anger from being outcast from his home. Anger for having spent years in the service of Undarieo. Anger in the constant fight with his former brother. And most of all, anger in the fact that he could not save his only true friend. The anger turned to rage, and the rage became palpable as it ran the course of his body. It swelled up inside him until he couldn’t take it any longer and he let out a scream, a cry so animal and full of malice that the very earth was thought to tremble. The distance between the crime lord and the hunter decreased with each passing moment. He could now see fear, complete and utter fear in his prey’s eyes. The man had never feared anything before in his life, but he knew now, without a doubt, that Tannash was the end of him.
A shrill cried echoed off the building and ships. Without a second’s hesitation Tannash barreled past the crime lord and out into the wilderness. Undarieo, finding his composure after the creature had gone, rechecked the power level on his blaster just in case the trandoshan changed his mind again.
She heard a rustling sound behind her. The girl turned to see a kath hound approaching from the darkness. Two more appeared on either side of her. Behind her the fourth howled. Startled, she turned to see the large male kath hound, its horns and teeth producing a terrifying imaging in the lightening. She was normally brave and foolhardy, a trait from both of her parents, but she just couldn’t take it anymore. She screamed at the top of her lungs.
The four beasts circled slowly
around the helpless girl, sizing her up and dividing her into meal sized
portions. As fate would have it, the storm reached this part of the world, and
a sudden wall of rain began to fall. The male gave a snort and a growl, and all
four beasts started to charge.
Once they had both embraced for as long as it took them to find themselves, Tannash stood up, carrying the young girl in her arms. She finally opened her eyes to see what remained of all four kath hounds. The animals had been slaughtered and their bodies splayed open, their innards covering most of the ground. Just as the lizard was carrying his adopted niece back to their former home, Undarieo’s ship lifted off and its engines turned the clouds red for the few moments it remained in the atmosphere. He knew that, for the moment, everything was settled. Both Tannash and Undarieo had silently called a truce to lick their wounds. Eventually they will meet again, but for now, there were more pressing concerns.
* * *
“Then the
third Ithorian said, ‘That’s not my mother!’” Darkon’s punchline produced mixed
results. Flyboy’s head was no longer in his hands but rather repeatedly
rebounding off the table of its own accord. Utmog
laughed as loudly as his belly would allow, which is a great allowance as far
as bellies go. The various droids made comments on the human according to their
personalities.
After the
commotion died down, and Flyboy and Darkon began to berate each other as only
best friends could, Tannash seemed to rouse himself
from whatever depths of memory he formally occupied. He blinked a few times,
let out a leathery sigh, and rejoined the rest of the world as his usual silent
self.
“Well then, now that that’s all over with,” Flyboy gave a meanacing glance to Darkon, “does anyone else wanna tell a story?” His question drenched with sarcasm.
“I have story!” Utmog grunted from the rear of the room.
“Utmog, he was joking,” Darkon tried to plead with the Gamorrean. But like his usual self, Utmog
didn’t hear a word. He was too busy telling his story in his usual butchery of
the basic language. Flyboy, remembering all too well what happened, couldn’t
help but hide a smile behind his hand.
It Happen Like This: Utmog’s Tale